


Right Place, Right Time

by IrishDame777



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action, Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishDame777/pseuds/IrishDame777
Summary: Evangeline Stormblade has always been an outcast.  Born with a proclivity for magic in a time where the arcane is shunned and feared she has never quite found where she belongs.  When a dragon sends her hurling through time to the Civil War she finds a land steeped in not only distrust of magic, but also acceptance.  Will she finally have the life she's always dreamed of, or be swallowed by a dragon first?
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ondolemar, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ulfric Stormcloak, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. High Hrothgar

I have made modern day Skyrim a lot like modern day real life. I've basically taken one of those "girls who plays Skyrim suddenly ends up there" type stories and made it that she's actually from Skyrim, but in the future. I'll reference movies, books, and other such things but any locations will be changed to match those in Tamriel. Same thing goes for religions. Obviously there's no Catholicism or Buddhism in Tamriel.

I have made up my own system of travel distance for this. I took how many hours it take to fast travel to a location, halved it, and made it days. So if it takes 13 hours to fast travel from Whiterun to Markarth in the game, it takes around six and a half days to get there in my story. This won't be exact as we know all sorts of circumstances can affect how long it takes you to get somewhere.

You may see changes to buildings. I may add or take away space and rooms in buildings and houses to make them more like what I feel a house would be like.

I think that covers everything. If not I'll more than likely explain any changes within the story or add a note in the next chapter. Now, onward we go!

* * *

“Are there really seven thousand steps?”

“That’s what they say. I’ve never really counted them myself.”

“Why are you climbing them?”

“It’s a spiritual thing. They say that men were created by Kyne when the sky breathed onto the land. If you believe such things, we all started here; atop this mountain. It’s the highest in all of Tamriel.”

“Do _you_ believe that?”

“It’s been a long time since anyone has spoken with the divines, but I’d like to believe it. Perhaps if I meditate enough at each of the Etched Tablets I’ll hear them speaking to me.”

“What do the tablets say?”

“No one knows. They’ve long since worn away.”

“Hmm. Why can’t you just meditate down here?”

Evangeline sighed wearily at this game of questions. The Ivarstead Innkeeper’s child was an adorable little boy. He had taken a shine to her two years ago during one of her biannual pilgrimages up the Throat of the World. Every trip he bombarded her with questions about her journey. She didn’t mind. It was just tiresome after awhile.

“I go up there because I hope the silence will help me hear them better.”

“Oh.” A pause. “What’s that?!”

Eva glanced down her person to see what had caught his eye. Ah. She should have known her pistol would have snagged the boy’s attention eventually. Its bright silver cylinder was reflecting the morning sun.

“That’s my revolver. I take it with me for protection.”

“I thought you could use magic?”

A couple walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction looked startled at his words, and gave her dirty looks as she walked by. Eva returned them with a nasty face of her own.

“Magic scares people more than guns these days, Sven. It’s not like a thousand years ago where it was slightly more accepted. I try not to use it unless I absolutely have to.”

“Muriel says your magic is really strong.”

“Does she now?”

“Yea! She says-“

The young woman smiled with exasperation and amusement and knelt down to face the boy.

“I’m sorry hon, but we’ve reached as far as you can go. Perhaps we can talk some more when I get back down ok?”

“Awww.” He kicked at a small pile of dirt. “Ok. Will you practice shooting for me when you get back?! Dad won’t let us see his. He said it’s for protecting the inn only.”

“Sure kid. I need the practice for my next speed shoot anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a contest to see who can shoot stuff the fastest. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back, ok? See you in about a week, Sven.”

“Ohhhh kay. Bye Eva!”

“Bye kid.”

Evangeline adjusted the satchel over her shoulder and crossed bridge out of town. She knew there weren’t seven thousand steps. Perhaps it took seven thousand footfalls to reach the temple at the top of the mountain, but there were less than one thousand actual steps on the path. Spiritual enlightenment was not her reason for climbing the mountain. She did it to train her mind and practice her magic without scaring the masses.

It wasn’t that she was without religion. Hell, she had the symbols of the Divines tattooed across most of her body. No. Her meditation came with her practice of magic not by climbing stairs. There, in that lonely dilapidated courtyard at the top of the mountain, she felt more spiritually attuned in her training than she ever would praying at some worn tablets. It was as if the divines were speaking to her as she used her spells; applauding her for using forgotten and now feared skills.

So it was that twice a year she climbed The Throat of the World to train and center herself spiritually through her magic. She knew it would cause uproar if people found out. Last year the young daughter of the mill owner had come face-to-face with a bear. Eva had been too far away to do anything and the gun at her hip would be too dangerous to fire at that distance. With little choice to do anything else she had fired a lightning bolt. In her fear for the child she added a little too much force and put a large hole straight through the animal.

There was no gratefulness for saving Muriel’s life. Her parents had scooped her up and stared at Evangeline as if she would strike them down at a moment’s notice. The guards then chewed her out for half an hour about how dangerous that was and how mages weren’t really welcomed in Skyrim. She had assured them she was not a mage and only dabbled in magic to pass the time. It wouldn’t happen again. This was why she had lied to Sven. She would not be welcomed back in Ivarstead if they found out why she was here.

The sun was past its zenith when the worn ruins of the temple finally came into view. She smiled gratefully. Her legs felt like jelly. It would be nice to sit down and rest for a bit. The old stone door creaked loudly as she pushed it open. It seemed even colder inside than out.

“Let’s have a little light shall we?”

With a wave of her hand balls of fire soared forward to light the old sconces and braziers. A few skeevers and a small frostbite spider looked her way and she turned them to ash with another blast of fire. She shivered slightly. Spiders were not something she could handle and it took a great deal of willpower not to run away screaming.

* * *

It was nearly sundown by the time she finished cleaning up the kitchen, a small seating area, and a room to sleep in. Venison stew was warming over the fire and the small oven was filling the room with the smell of fresh bread. One of the few people in her home town of Riften that didn’t avoid her presence was the owner of the local bakery. The old woman had given her a few loafs of frozen bread dough to take on her journey.

Evangeline had grown up in Honorhall Orphanage from the time she was five and had shown a proclivity for magic since that time. She had been shunned her whole life because of it and very few people had shown her kindness. Anna Fair-Child, however, was a benevolent old woman who was welcoming to everyone. She had no tolerance for prejudice of any sort and treated everyone with respect. It was she who gave Eva her first job at the bakery and helped her to leave that hellhole of an orphanage.

Once she had earned enough money she had moved away from Riften to a nearby city where no one knew of her magic. Eva was a free spirited person. She loved to be out and about, seeing all that she could of the world. Traveling was her favorite past time. It was what prompted her to become a Travel Agent. She was able to explore and experience so much of Skyrim and no one knew her. She could walk on the street with no prejudice or dirty looks. It was a dream come true.

She never forgot how much she owed Anna who had helped lift her up from the hell she’d been in. She often visited her, especially before her trips to High Hrothgar. Anna’s bread after all, would always be the best.

_It’s thanks to her that I know of this place too. She was the one who suggested I come here for privacy to learn to control my magic._

Eva chewed thoughtfully as she remembered her first time at the monastery. Her magic had always been strong. Her control over it was another matter. If she had tried to save Muriel from that bear back then she’d have likely turned them both to ash. Now she could send a single bolt of lightning or many and direct where each one went. She could send streams of ice and fire hurtling through the air in intricate patterns.

_All thanks to these magic books Heath gave me._

Like Evangeline, Heath was gifted with magic. Unlike her, he had support. Heath was a healer at the temple of Kyne in Whiterun; one of the very few places where such temples still stood and magic was tolerated. She had met him after she had been attacked by a giant on her way to Solitude. The damn thing had come around from the other side of a hill and she had no time to hide. He’d swiped her with his club, braking two ribs and bruising several organs, before she set him on fire. 

Luckily a farmer had come along and found her. He had taken her to the city, though he dropped her there with no preamble. He’d been too afraid of her magic to do much else. Heath had been sympathetic to her plight and when she told him of her trips to the monastery he’d given her a few books to learn from. He even accompanied her on a trip or two and taught her a few tricks. They dated for two years before admitting that the distance was too much. She loved her freedom, never living in one place for very long, and he couldn’t bring himself to leave the temple.

_It was fun while it lasted and we’re still good friends._

Evangeline cleaned her dishes and prepared for bed. Tomorrow she would go through her usual exercises in the school of Destruction, and then brush up on her Illusion spells. She was most excited about the following day though. There were a few new Conjuration and Alteration spells she was looking forward to learning. After her time here she would travel to Whiterun. Working with Heath at the temple was the only way she could practice Restoration without injuring herself to do it.

 _And I’m not doing that. I am_ not _a masochist._


	2. What's That Voice?

The air felt charged and smelled faintly of ozone. It left the loose hairs on Eva’s head reaching towards the sky and her blouse clinging to her torso. She wiggled in slight discomfort, planted her feet, and sent a Lightening Bolt at her nearest ice pillar. It shattered in a shower of ice and powder, coating the courtyard with a shimmering blanket of snow.

“ _Brit, Briinah…_ ”

Evangeline whirled on the spot at the quiet voice that seemed to whisper in her ear. It didn’t frighten her as much as it had the first time it had happened. The first time had sent her searching the monastery and it’s courtyard for the better part of a day. The second incident made her rethink her desire to stay in High Hrothgar. The third made her wonder if perhaps it was the gods speaking to her. While it was highly unlikely it was like it was impossible.

_And really, what better place for it to happen, right?_

She wasn’t entirely sold on the idea. No one had spoken to the Divines in centuries. Even the Daedric Princes had been silent for at least a hundred years. After two days of hearing a disembodied voice, where life on Tamriel was said to have begun, Eva was beginning to consider the idea. She couldn’t fathom why they would choose now to speak; or why her. The timing however was coincidental.

_This is the first time I’ve been up here since the tattoo has been finished. Have I pleased them by marking my body with their symbols?_

The great monstrosity of a tattoo had been finished just last month. It stretched up her left leg, across her back, and down her right arm. Framed by glittering silvery rays of moonlight and crowned with branches baring lush clouds of pink flowers, the Eldergleam blanketed her back. Branches ever reaching for the moons caressed broad shoulders; creeping, crawling roots splayed over wide hips and disappeared beneath her waistband.

Spriggans guarded the great tree on her back and danced across the meadow on her right arm. A stream slipped its way down to her hand, peppered along the way with groups of mountain flowers in a variety of colors, and circling her wrist like a bangle. A family of fox drank of the brook, the young kits playing in the water. From her bicep a Spriggan Earth Mother watched over her dancing daughters and mischievous fox.

Secunda and Masser hung in the night sky on her thigh and peered down on another angle of the Sanctuary. Hawks nestled in the branches of the Eldergleam and rabbits ducked in and out of massive roots and grassy knolls. The stone path wound its way around the long sinewy pillar of her leg, strong and lithe from years of walking across Skyrim. Two followers of Kynareth strolled up the trail hand-in-hand, a watchful Spriggan eyeing them from the Shadows.

To honor the Divines, she had the artist work the pendants of each of their amulets into the tattoo. Dibella and Arkay with their circular symbols had been worked into the moons on her thigh. Stendarr’s horn nestled among the Spriggan Earth Mother’s crown of branches on her bicep. On the inside of her forearm, the two dancing Spriggans were circling Juliano’s pyramid. Zenithar’s anvil was among the stones the rabbits clambered over and Mara’s amulet hung from the clasped hands of the followers on her calf.

Her pride and joy however were Kynareth, whose pendant like an upside down teardrop, sat snugly at the base of her neck hovering among the uppermost branches of the ancient tree; Akatosh as a shadow of a dragon passing behind the moons, the jagged end of his great tail taking the shape of his pendant; Talos his cross like symbol superimposed over the whole of her back. Every feature situated so that their lines come together to form it.

It was a thing of beauty and cost her fortune but she wore it with pride. Had this show of devotion somehow pleased them and now in her meditation with magic they were speaking with her?

_If they are I can’t understand a word they’re saying. So what do I do now? It’s not like there are any shrines to pray at up here. Do I just_ ask _them what they want? Should I even bother?_

The decision was made for her as that same incorporeal voice spoke again, this time in a dull roar that swept across the courtyard. It flowed down from the peak of the mountain like water, washing away the raging snowstorm that blanketed everything above the monastery. The fresh snow she’d created billowed across the yard in great clouds carried on a breeze that buffeted her clothes. She could make out three distinct words.

“LOK, VAH, KOOR!!”

“Holy shit…”

Fight and flight seemed content to pull so strongly in either direction that she could do little more than shiver and sink to her knees. On one hand she was terrified of that thunderous voice that could alter the weather. On the other the way up the mountain was clear.

_Had it cleared it for her?_

How long had she wished to see the peak of the tallest mountain; to see the never melting snow, the place where man began?

“Huzrah, Briinak…”

The voice was whisper soft now, drifting across the court like a gentle breeze. It caressed her ears and pulled gently at something deep inside, something buried far below the surface of her conscious mind. That something answered. It was slow at first; like some great beast waking from an ancient slumber. She suddenly felt drawn to that voice. It was like finding a piece of herself that she didn’t know was missing.

_I don’t know what’s going on or what this feeling is, but I have to find out._

She leapt to her feet and sprinted into the monastery for a warmer coat and her special messenger bag. At the last second she grabbed her revolver and her belt of speed loaders.

_This is how horror movies start right? So idiot runs off on their own somewhere they shouldn’t._

She was being foolish. There was a high probability she could end up stuck at the peak if the snowstorm returned. It was also highly likely that the intense winds would simply blow her off the mountain.

_But I can’t stop now. I have to find the source of this voice. I_ need _to._

* * *

The peak of the mountain was underwhelming to say the least. The path opened into a clearing of sorts. A large snow capped spire reached for the heavens on her left and a crumbling curved wall sat directly across from it. Large mounds of rock framed the back of the wall and surrounded the wide open space, protecting it from the winds.

“Huh. I thought this place would have looked a little less, I don’t know, mundane.”

She looked around at the empty space feeling a little let down, but determined to make the best of it. At least she could get some Unmelting Snow. Heath was gonna shit when he saw it.

_At least he will if the rumors are true and it doesn’t melt by the time I get home._

It was as she was approaching the right side of the clearing, jar of snow in hand, that she saw it. Slightly off center of the glade, closer to the wall, was a strange distortion. It seemed to sparkle and rippled as she looked through it. If she listened carefully enough, she could almost swear it made a sound. That was enough to fill her with a cold dread and she immediately began to sweat. A thought had occurred to her. What if the voice she’d been hearing was a Daedric Prince, and this was their portal to Oblivion?

“I think I really need to leave now.”

“Drem…”

The voice was so close now. It had to be right behind her. She was terrified to turn around but knew she had to. What she saw nearly brought her to her knees. A large red dragon was climbing up the side of the mountain to perch himself on the crumbling wall. It must have been quite old. Its ruby colored scales were fading and slightly brittle looking. Two of the spines on its back had broken off.

_A dragon! I’ve been hearing the voice of a dragon!!_

“Pogaas tiid lost vod.” She took a frightened step back as it lifted its head high and stared down at her. It seemed to be appraising her and if she didn’t know better she’d think it was smiling. “Nii los tiid. Zu’u fen mahfaeraak dahmaan hi, Dovahkiin. Dii grah-zeymahzin, dii briinah.” 

The great beast reared its head and took a deep breath, a great light shining around its body. There was no time for her to run and nowhere for her to hide. She could only stand there and stare as the great maw opened wide.

“FUS. RO.”

A blast of air pushed against her hard enough for her feet to leave the ground. She was being forced backwards towards the distortion floating behind her. If that wasn’t bad enough, the strange light from the dragon was flying right at her! She could do nothing to stop it as it soared straight into her chest. It was warm, comforting, and familiar. Just as the voice had been back in the courtyard. The last thing she saw was a pile of dragon bones collapsing into the snow.


	3. Wrong Place in the Wrong Time

Eva gave a shrill cry. Her surroundings disappeared in a swirling mass of darkness as she fell. Streaks of violet and indigo light past her by and she could hear voices shouting all around her. Fierce wind buffeted her from all sides, roaring in her ear like a freight train and bringing tears to her eyes. Then, it was gone; replaced with a gentle breeze and a sensation of floating. The voices quieted, their shouts falling to soft whispers. She felt like a petal wafting on a soft breeze, gently drifting to the ground.

Farther below her a pinprick of light appeared, growing steadily larger. All around her the dark nothingness that she had fallen into became lighter, black into grey, violet and indigo to pale purple and blue. Her stomach did a flip. What was going to happen when she hit that light? Was she dead and headed for Sovngarde? Had the dragon killed her? The light flickered violently and exploded outward with a blinding flash as she finally passed through it. When her vision cleared she was struck dumb by what she saw.

She was floating high above the forest looking down at the lands south of the Throat of the World and approaching quickly. A scream tore itself from her throat as she resumed her breakneck fall just a few feet above the trees tops. Branches struck her from all directions scratching her face and tearing at her clothes. A large limb struck her just above the knees spinning her into a backwards fall. Another caught the back of her thighs spinning her again and she slammed stomach first into the ground.

~ * ~ * ~

There were voices talking above her. She couldn’t tell what they were saying. Everything hurt and her mind was foggy. As it cleared she was able to make out words; something about Stormcloaks. Whoever they were jostled her roughly as they flipped her onto her back and wrenched her bag from her shoulder. A boot struck her ribs jolting her back to the present.

“Get up criminal!”

“Ah! What the fuck?!”

She cringed and rolled over onto her hands and knees, grasping her throbbing side and drawing her gun. Several swords and a few arrows were aimed her way.

“Hooooly shit…”

She was surrounded by no less than fifteen men and one woman wearing armor reminiscent of the fourth Era Empire.

_Did I stumble into some sort of reenactment? What the hell did they kick me for?_

“I don’t know who the hell you are lady, but I’d appreciated if you didn’t kick me.” She eyed her bag hanging from her grasp. “Now give me my bag back and I’ll be out of your way.”

“I don’t think so traitor. You’re coming with us.”

“I appreciate your dedication to staying in character, but I’m not taking part in your game.” Several soldiers looked at each other. “Now if you just hand me my bag I’ll be on my way back to High Hrothgar.”

“I don’t think you understand Stormcloak traitor! You’re under arrest and you’re coming with us!”

“What the hell is wrong with you lady? I’m not part of your reenactment! Give me my shit and I’ll be on my way! I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Several men stepped forward, leveling their swords at her chest. The archers took aim. Evangeline was stunned. Was this normal? Did participants always take it so far? This was not good. These people seemed delusional. They might actually hurt her.

_There’s so many of them. Chain Lightening could probably get me out of this, but could I get them all before I took an arrow to the neck or something?_

“Fine. You win.”

She slowly holstered her gun and raised her hands. Two men came forward to tie her hands and a third took her gun.

“Hey! Hey! Careful with that before you shot somebody! Aren’t you guys supposed to pretend modern stuff doesn’t exist? Put it back before you hurt yourself!”

“Shut up criminal!”

She glared at him before realizing the Captain was looking through her bag.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Just because I agreed to play along with you psychos doesn’t give you the right to go through my things!”

“Quiet!”

The man to her right struck her across the face. She stared at him feeling shocked. This wasn’t right. Reenactments didn’t go like this. Either these people had lost their minds or…

_Am I…? What was that portal!?_

“A mage, eh?”

The Captain stepped forward and held open her bag. She stared down into a void. 

“I like to think so.”

“How do I search it?”

“I’d suggest a lantern.”

Another blow split her lip. She grimaced and licked the cut.

“You have to think of what you’re looking for. Just don’t say everything or is liable to explode.”

“Was that so hard?” The Captain sneered.

“Excruciatingly so.” She glared. “Tell me something. What makes you think I’m a criminal? Is sleeping outside a crime?”

“Don’t play games with me Stormcloak. We know who you are.”

_Stormcloak? She said that earlier. Why does that sound familiar?_

“Pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about, because I don’t, and enlighten me.”

Her bag was thrust in front of her face and she had to cross her eyes to focus on the medallion the woman obviously wanted her to look at. It was faded from years of sitting underwater but she could just make out the relief of a bear. She gave the woman a clueless look and she turned it over. The writing was just as worn as the bear and some had disappeared entirely.

“ _To my dearest…_

_-Ulfric S…”_

“Is it coming back to you now rebel traitor?”

It all clicked together then. Fourth Era armor, rebels and traitors, and now _Ulfric Stormcloak_ ; that whatever-it-was at the top of the Throat of the World had spit her out smack dab in the middle of Skyrims Civil War. She paled considerably and the Captain smiled mockingly.

“Thought you could talk your way out of it didn’t you? Sorry to disappoint you, but don’t worry. You’ll get to see your dearest one last time.”

A round of laughter went up and she was pulled roughly as the soldiers started guiding her out of the woods. Several wagons were waiting for them. She was shoved towards the second one. Four men were already inside. On the right two Nords, a Stormcloak soldier with blond hair and vibrant blue eyes, and shivering mess of a man with brown hair and eyes. On the left furthest from her was an Imperial with brown hair and clear green eyes and to his right a large Nord in fine dress with blonde hair and blue eyes.

_That must be Ulfric. Why is he gagged?_

They didn’t look at her as she was shoved towards that carriage until it was clear she was getting in. Then Ulfric spared her a passing glance and shifted over, the others stared at her as if she was some fantastical beast.

“Sorry you can’t get one last kiss in.”

The Captain shoved her hard and she toppled into the carriage, almost falling face first onto the wooden floor. Her body ached at the rough treatment. She glared at the bitch and dropped herself down next to Ulfric as the carriage started moving forward. The other men stared at her, questions in their eyes. Avoiding their curious looks she buried her face in her hands. How was this even possible? Had she really been thrust back in time?

_This is what I get for following a strange voice isn’t it?_

“You have strange attire stranger. Are you from Cyrodiil?”

She glanced up at the soldier. He and the two men in rags were staring at her with open curiosity.

“And what was that about a kiss?”

Her glare had enough heat in it that the shivery brunette put his hands up in a gesture of peace.

“Don’t worry about it!” She snapped. “And no, I’m not from Cyrodiil. What year is it, if I may ask?” Ulfric glanced up at her now, one blue eye watching her from the corner of his vision.

“You don’t know what year it is?”

“I’ve taken a rather harsh blow to the head.” She groused.

“It is 201 of the Fourth Era.” The blond soldier was quite amiable. She decided she liked him.

“Almost a millennia. Fuuuuck.” She whispered. “And of course right in the middle of a war. Just my luck.”

“Tell me stranger. What got you on our carriage?” She looked at the soldier, wondering what wouldn’t get her locked in a padded cell. The partial truth would work at least.

“They think I’m his lover.” She jerked her head at the silent noble. All four men startled and looked at her wide eyed. “I found a golden medallion emblazoned with a bear. There’s an engraving on it, but it’s really old. There’s no way it belongs to either of us. The lady Captain over there wasn’t hearing any of that though.”

“Imperial bastards. They’ll brand anyone a traitor if it suits their cause. Better kill an innocent bystander than let a possible rebel go free.”

“It’s all thanks to you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell. You two... You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

“We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.”

“Guess maybe you should have been a better thief.” The Imperial narrowed his green eyes and sneered at the man across from her.

“Shut up back there!” They ignored the imperial driving the carriage. The thief seemed intent on digging himself a hole.

“And what’s wrong with him?” Ulfric gave the man a withering look and his soldier scowled.

“Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!”

“Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits.”

“No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening!”

The realization startled Eva as well.

_I’ve been sent back in time just to die with a bunch of rebels. If the Divines wanted me dead so badly, why not just blow me off the mountain?_

“General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!”

“Good. Let’s get this over with.”

“Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me.”

“Will you grow a set!? You made your bed. Lay in it!” There was no fear in those green eyes. She wondered if he had some grand plan for escape or if he knew his life was always destined to end this way.

“Look at him, General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this. This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

The carriage rolled its way under a stone arch and into the town. Near the entrance a man with grey hair and an Altmer female sat conversing atop their horses. Eva immediately disliked her. She was a snake oil salesman type. Every smile she gave and every word she spoke was designed to please and cajole. All the while she clutched a dagger to plunge into your back the moment you turned.

_The soldier said she was Thalmor. Gods I wish I had learned more about history. They were who we fought in the Great War right? Why are they here in Skyrim? Didn’t the Empire win?_

Their carriage finally stopped near some battlements and they were instructed to step down. The horse thief continued to plead and make excuses and Eva had to agree with the Imperial.

“Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time.”

“Empire loves their damn lists.” The soldier griped.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.”

The tall proud Nord held his head high and stepped past her towards the block.

“It has been an honor Jarl Ulfric!”

“Ralof of Riverwood.”

The soldier gave her a passing nod and went to join his Jarl.

“Lokir of Rorikstead.”

“No! I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!”

“Halt!”

Several arches took down the thief before he even made it past town center. Finally the captain and the soldier holding the list turned to Eva and the Imperial.

“You there! Who are you?”

They exchanged looks and then the man stepped forward.

“I am Fino.”

“You’re a long way from the Imperial City. What’re you doing in Skyrim?”

Fino gave the man a conspirator’s smile.

“Opportunity.”

The soldier gave him a disgusted look.

“And what about you?”

“Evangeline Storm-Blade.”

“You’re of mixed blood? Where are you from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Is there no one you wish your remains to be returned to?”

Eva looked at him for a moment then turned to the captain still wearing her bag. She spit at the woman’s feet.

“Go fuck yourselves.”

She glared, her eyes glinting beneath her helmet.

“Get in the queue prisoner.”

 _“Get in the queue prisoner.”_ She mocked with a sneer.

The male soldier hid a snort of laughter behind a cough and his list, and the captain shoved her and Fino towards the group of rebels. General Tullius, as Ralof had called him, was approaching Ulfric. He seemed to be fighting back a smug smile.

_This is where he gloats, right?_

“Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like The Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.”

_The Voice? What’s that? Is that why he’s gagged?_

“You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.”

Eva, rolling her eyes, couldn’t take it any longer.

“Raise your hand if you have a small dick and you’re over compensating.”

“Several Stormcloaks and Fino roared with laughter. Ulfric stared at her as if she had three heads. Tullius did not look amused.

“You think you’re funny, do you?”

“I think I’m hilarious.”

She clenched her hands to hide their shaking.

He strode up to her until they were toe-to-toe, his cold brown eyes glaring down the length of his nose.

“You’re oddly dressed for a rebel.”

“That’s because I’m not a rebel. Just a girl in the wrong place in the wrong time.”

“Liar! I saw the medallion!”

“Fuck you, lady! It’s not even mine!” She gasped as the back of Tullius’ hand made contact with her face.

“Damn Julia Roberts! They do always go for the cheekbone.”

“Let me see the medallion.”

The captain handed him the bag just as something roared overhead. Tullius ignored it and peered closely at the engraving.

“To my dearest, eh? From Ulfric. How sweet.” He sneered, turning a mocking eye to the Jarl.

“That engraving is worn and clearly ancient. I found it at the bottom of the ocean in Winterhold.”

“Hm. Is that so?” He ran his thumb over the medallion then put the bag over his shoulder. “To the block!”

She glared heatedly and shoved him her hands landing on the strap of her bag.

“Arcanus!” She hissed quietly. Then… “You’re a real asshole pal. Just so you know!”

The captain and another soldier grabbed her arms and pulled her towards the block. Tears pricked her eyes but she blinked them back. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“What in Oblivion is that?!”

The ground shook violently and she snapped her eyes up to see a massive black dragon with red eyes land on the battlement. There was a great sound like thunder and words she didn’t understand. The skies darkened and flaming meteors started raining down around them. Eva stared in horror as those red eyes turned on her.

_Oh no. Not another one._

“FUS. RO. DAH!!”

A fierce wind blew everyone off their feet and Eva tumble as over tea kettle, landing hard on her back. When she looked up, Tullius wasn’t standing far away. Her bag was dangling from his shoulder. She glared fiercely, a hot rage building in her, and charged him. A massive hand like an iron vice stopped her.

“Are you mad, woman?” It was Ralof. “There will be time for that later!!”

“I need that bag!”

“We _need_ shelter!”

“You don’t understand!”

“Insufferable woman!!”

He stooped low and bodily threw her over his shoulders. She kicked and pounded his back, but it was like hitting a brick wall. He hardly seemed to feel it.

“Put me down you son-of-a-bitch!”

Ralof ignored her and hurried into the keep, Ulfric slamming the door behind them. As soon as her feet touched the ground Eva slapped the blond soldier.

“You bastard! You don’t understand a thing! He can’t have that bag!”

“For the love of Talos, girl! Why in Oblivion not?”

“Because there are things from _my_ time in there!”

She gasped and covered her mouth. Ralof looked at her like she had three heads.

“You’re mad!”

“So you were not being facetious when you said you were, “in the wrong place, in the wrong time”?”

Eva stared at the Jarl.

_He caught that?_

“You believe me?”

“You believe her?”

Ulfric’s eyes bore into her with great intensity as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the golden disc that had caused her so much trouble. She swallowed with some difficulty, but met his eyes unflinchingly.

_One of his eyes is actually green._

“I have never given anyone anything engraved in such a manner, and yet I know this medallion.”

He reached under his breast plate and pulled out a much newer version of the offending pendant. She could see the identical holes for the leather cord, and matching chips in the edge near the bear’s mouth.

“How did you even…?”

A roar split the air and the wall on the second floor burst inwards, flames pouring across the floor and down the stairs. The medallions disappeared into Ulfric’s attire and he turned to Ralof.

“We can continue this later. Come to Windhelm if you make it out of here alive. We will talk and I’ll return the medallion to you. For now you need to go.” He turned to Ralof. “I will wait for stragglers.”

“Yes, my Jarl.”

Ralof grabbed her hand and turned towards the stairs. She held her ground.

“Jarl Ulfric.”

He turned those multi-colored eyes on her once more.

“Please. No one can know. The effects this could have…”

He nodded solemnly.

“You heard her men. Not a word.”

“Thank you.”

Ralof tugged her lightly and they rushed up the stairs. Through the gaping hole left by the dragon he pointed to a building a few feet away.

“See the inn? Jump through the roof.” He pulled her hands towards him and cut her bindings.

_He must have lifted it from one of the soldiers killed by that dragon._

“Go now. You can make it.”

With a deep breath and a prayer that her injured legs would hold her she jumped. It was jarring. At first she didn’t think she’d be able to stand.

_Holy shit I was worried for a second there._

She looked up to Ralof, but before he could join her more of the tower collapsed and blocked the hole.

“Ralof!”

“I’m all right lass! Make for the keep!”

“Right!”

Eva turned and ran down the stairs. Just outside the inn the soldier who had held the list was helping people to safety.

“Still alive, prisoner?”

“No thanks to your General.” She snarled.

“I’m sorry. I can’t change that. But I can help you _stay_ alive. Follow me to the keep.”

Hadvar, as she later learned was his name, led her past soldiers, fleeing citizens, flaming meteors, and fiery roars. In the courtyard of the keep they passed Tullius shouting orders and criticizing his men. Eva gave her bag one last longing look before following the Imperial soldier. Ralof passed them halfway.

“Ralof! You damn trailer! Out of my way!”

“We’re escaping, Hadvar! You’re not stopping us this time!”

“Fine! I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!”

The two men each ran for a different entrance to the keep, both beckoning her to follow. She would have preferred to follow Ralof, but she knew her best chance at recovering her things lay with befriending Hadvar. Her eyes met his and they shared a meaningful look before she followed Hadvar into the keep.


End file.
